


Reason To Be

by easefuldays



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Depression, M/M, Mental Instability, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt, suicide planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easefuldays/pseuds/easefuldays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know what it's like to want to die. How it hurts to smile. How you try to fit in but you can't. How you hurt yourself on the outside to try to kill the thing on the inside.”<br/>― Susanna Kaysen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reason To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Rated Mature for triggers, not sex.  
> Based on my experiences. Characters are based off of actual people I lived with in the hospital. Everything stated is 100% factual. McLeans does exist, all of these people were there for those exact issues. Conversations with "Simon" and Journal entries are true. Conversations with other characters are false. .  
> Also, in English we’ve been studying the use of “run on sentences” and how they can be used properly and well. Safe to say I’m hooked, so this fic is full of them. Feedback is appreciated! x

 “I know what it's like to want to die. How it hurts to smile. How you try to fit in but you can't. How you hurt yourself on the outside to try to kill the thing on the inside.”   
― [Susanna Kaysen](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4376.Susanna_Kaysen)

For Harry, there wasn’t a beginning or end to his depression. It was always there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for the opportunity to strike. As a child, it was easier to brush it off and hush it away with a lollipop or a new toy. Harry eventually got older. He grew into his lanky features and his nose finally fit his face. His mind grew too, learning to seek out the darkness in people and shooing away the light. _You’re not welcome here,_ it said, _this is the house of the night._

            When there’s so much building up inside of you, it’s hard to find release. Harry spent most of his childhood drowning in books, travelling to far off places and wishing his life had meaning like the characters’ did. When books didn’t cut it anymore, there had to be something else. It started with tweezers. A quick nip at the skin of his arm, just enough to burn and raise the skin. That was all. That was fine. But then it wasn’t only tweezers, it was thumbtacks and paper clips and blades. The blades were the best, a few slices and you were done. Watch the blood bubble and the skin break and sigh as some of the darkness seeks out, only to find its way back in.

            His parents found out, obviously. Wearing long sleeved shirts in the summer isn’t exactly acceptable, plus it was uncomfortable. His mother was the first to notice and, when he lifted his arm and revealed the scars and cuts and marks, she cried. _My baby,_ she sobbed, _how could you do this to yourself?_ All Harry could do was shrug. It was harder to explain insanity to the criminally sane. The only logical way to deal with this was to throw him in therapy. He was shoved into a red room, thrown onto a purple couch, and was instructed to spill his guts to a man in a black chair. He was old, the man. He said his name was Simon and he was here to help. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a warm smile, eyes that beckoned without intruding and, for the first time in his life, Harry felt safe. So he started off small, explaining that he thinks he’s clinically depressed and this is why. Simon asked if he cut, he nodded. Simon asked if he could see, Harry showed him. Simons face remained neutral, but you could see in his eyes that he felt bad. _You going to lock me up then, doc?_ Harry asked. _No, I’ve seen worse._ Simon replied, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile.

            That was middle school. Middle school ended, like all things do. High School was another adventure entirely. Freshman year started off fine, he had friends and the monsters in his head backed off a bit. Then his friends stopped talking to him, left him alone in the cruel world of high school to fend for himself. That’s when things started to get bad. He was alone most nights, cutting and crying, questioning his existence because is there really a point to all of this? The school year rushed by in a haze of blood and tears, but when it was over Harry collapsed in his bed and slept for two days straight. That summer, he could count the amount of times he left his room on one hand. It hurt to move. Waking up was the worst, watching the sunlight stream through your windows and hearing the birds chirp and _why wasn’t the rest of the world as fucked as he was?_ His father was furious, screaming at him _you need to get over this and get a life because this is not okay I’m not supporting this why are you so messed up this is bullshit, harry why couldn’t you be normal._ The sane didn’t understand, they never did.

            Before he knew, school started up again. This time, though, Harry didn’t go. It was impossible to get out of bed when your head weighed more than the rest of the world. It hurt, moving. It was better to stay in bed, curled up into the blankets, breathing in the smell and sighing because you’re safe, comfortable. It was easier this way, to wallow in a pit of self-loathing instead of having to deal with all of the people who hate you face-to-face.

            He dropped out of school on December 12th 2012, but in reality he hadn’t gone since before Thanksgiving. It was a relief, to not have to deal with the swarm of teachers emailing him _are you okay where have you been you have so much work to catch up when you get back we’re going to have to have a meeting to figure out what you can and can’t do you may need to meet with me during lunches and frees an_ d why didn’t they just leave him alone?

            Simon didn’t lock Harry up in middle school, but in high school there were conversations.

_Do you feel safe tonight, Harry?_

_No, sir, I don’t._

_What’s your plan then?_

_Swallow some Aleve, slit my wrists, potentially drink some nail polish remover._

_Can I call your mother in, Harry?_

_He shrugged_.

They agreed to meet with a women about medication and potentially going to a place called McLean’s to get better.

_Harry it won’t be instant gratification. You’ll have to work and it’ll be therapy and hard but it’ll help._

_It’s better than dying, I suppose._

He left on January 23rd 2012 with a garbage bag full of clothes and his teddy bear clutched to his side. He was sent to _East House Two_ and the second he walked in he was impaled, the people grabbing at his items and checking them to see if he brought anything triggering or hazardous. _This is a mental hospital,_ Harry thought, _why would I bring something bad when they’re trying to make me better._ In the end, only a few of his things were taken. A mirror because you can punch mirrors and break glass and slit your wrists. A bracelet, because the lobster claw can be ripped off and you can slit your wrists. In the end it was fine, and Harry was shoved into room 364 on the boys side and onto the bed closest to the door and some sheets were sitting at the end of the bed waiting to be tended to and he was alone. Well, sort of alone. There was someone sleeping in the bed beside him, snoring lightly. He had black hair, pale skin, and was apparently sleeping shirtless. Harry didn’t mind. Instead of focusing on the sleeping person beside him, he took to folding all of his clothes in the small closet provided and making his bed. Once he finished, he sat down on his bed and wrote,

“ _I’m at McLeans hospital and I’m not sure of what I think of it yet. The rooms are dirty but hopefully mum will bring me my blanket and pillow because I’m not using theirs. They took away my bracelet. They don’t allow mirrors here! WTF! I met some nice kids, none of which I’d usually see myself hanging out with otherwise but hey, new life starting now. My roommate seems cute, he’s been asleep since I moved in. I have really mixed feelings about McLeans. Isn’t it supposed to be gorgeous here? The bedrooms are shitty and dirty and not what I expected? I need a mop and my own sheets and my bracelet. I want to go home to my own bed and shower. The only thing keeping me grounded is Ed Sheeran and Kyle, my teddy bear. I think I can do it though. Need to be positive and let it all happen._

_Fuck they took away my gum! They’re probs eating it now. Why can’t I have my gum! WTF?!”_

Harry sighed and closed his journal, deciding to go out into the common room and meet some people. With a last look to his sleeping roommate, name still unknown, he shut the door and trudged down the hall. When he entered the common area, it wasn’t at all like he expected. There were two boys playing wii, one with a dark quiff and the other with bleached blonde hair. There was another boy curled up in a chair reading a batman comic. There were a few other boys playing a card game – looked like spades- on a small table next to the couch. Harry felt suddenly out of place and coughed, trying to catch someones attention. The boys playing wii ignored him, as did the ones playing spades, but the boy reading the batman comic raised his quite large eyebrows in suspicion and came over to talk to him.

“You’re new, yeah?” The boy asked, standing considerable way away from Harry.

“Yeah, just moved in actually. I’m Harry”

“Liam, and I’d shake your hand but touching isn’t really allowed here.”

“Really? Odd.”

“Well not really,” Liam started, his warm brown eyes softening a bit, “There are people who are here for physical abuse and touching could be, probably is, triggering. So we tend to back off a bit.”

“You seem to know a lot,” Harry said, feeling his mood considerably drop. Liam already knew so much, so that must mean everyone else did therefore Harry would be the odd one out and excluded.

“I do, but that’s only because I’ve been here a couple months.” Liam said, motioning for Harry to join him on one of the couches.

“Yeah? What for?”

“Depression, anxiety, body image, suicide attempts, hearing things and seeing things” Liam answered, shrugging like it was casual.

“I’m here for depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide attempts, and suicidal tendencies, if that helps” Harry offered, not wanting Liam to feel too exposed.

“Thanks, mate” Liam said, his smile reaching his eyes this time. The boys chatted on for a few minutes about their favorite books and music when another boy burst into the room.

“I JUST KICKED CHERYLS ASS IN SPADES BOYS” He screamed. The boy was small and skinny, with light brown fringe and piercing blue eyes. Harry felt his heart skip a beat because this boy was _beautiful,_ and he didn’t deserve to be here. This was a place for the insane.

“Well done, Lou.” Liam said, reaching over to give the boy- Louis apparently- a high five.

“Thought there was a no touching rule,” Harry teased.

“Louis is the exception, just you wait” Liam replied.

Louis noticed him five minutes later after screaming his head off at the boys playing wii, the one with the quiff was called Zayn and the blonde was Niall.

“Who’re you then? Louis said, plopping down in the space between Liam and Harry. Liam was right, Louis was the exception. Touching was okay when it was Louis initiating it and Harry wouldn’t complain, no sir.

“I’m Harry.”  
“Harry,” Louis repeated, as if he was testing the way the syllables rolled off his tongue and into the universe. “I’m Louis, but you already knew that.”

Harry smiled, ducking his eyes down and tilting his head _just right_ so his curls fell into his face.

“What’re you in for, Harry?” Louis asked, neck craning down to remain in Harry’s line of sight.

“Louis” Liam whispered, not wanting him to scare Harry off so quickly.

“It’s alright, urm depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide attempts, and suicidal tendencies?” Harry listed, suddenly feeling embarrassed and panicky, so he reached down to scratch one of his more recent cuts.

“No don’t do that,” Louis urged, gently lifting Harry’s hand away from his arm, “It’s alright, no one’s here to judge. This is a bloody mental hospital, mate, this is the only place you can be yourself.”

~

You had to be back in your room by 9:15 and asleep by 10:30, so by 9pm Harry was tucked in bed with a book, his roommate in the shower. They still hadn’t met, just a brush in the hallway, but Harry was nervous. He would be living with this person for however long they were here and he didn’t want to scare them away. _This is a hospital,_ Harry reminded himself, _You can’t scare anyone here. Doctors included._

After fidgeting for a couple minutes and trying _really hard_ not to pick at a scab, his roommate walked back in with a towel slung at his hips and another in his hair. He had a lip ring.

“You’re Harry then,” He said, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Yep”

“I’m Eddy,” he said, smiling and winking, “Don’t look unless you’re into that stuff, I don’t care” With that, Eddy dropped his towel and went to his dresser to put on a pair of joggers. Harry looked away, even though he _was_ into that stuff. When Eddy was comfortable enough, he snuggled back into bed and turned so he and Harry were facing each other.

“What’re you in for?” Harry asked, not wanting to be the first to answer it.

“Oh, the usual,” Eddy replied, a smile washing over his lips, “Depression, anxiety, suicide attempts, and substance abuse.”

“What’s your demon of choice then?” Harry asked, smiling back.

“Cigarettes. And booze. And weed. Tried ecstasy once, didn’t see what the hype was about.” Eddy replied, tongue gliding over the ring in his bottom lip. It suited him, the ring. “Yourself?”

“Oh the usual,” Harry teased, “Depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide attempts, yada yada”

“Demon of choice?”

“Blades.”  
“Ah, the good stuff.” Eddy said, turning to face the ceiling. There was a window next to his bed and they could hear a dog howling in the distance. It was reassuring knowing that life was still going on out there when theirs were falling apart.

 _Lights Out!_ They heard one of the night staff whisper, a hand creeping into turn off the lights.

“Night Harry” Eddy said, his words melting into the darkness.

~

The next morning was the first morning of group therapy. They all shuffled out of bed at 7:30, taking their necessities with them, and trudged to the “Academic Center”. Not really a place for academics, but more a place to learn how to cope and get better. Everyone from East House shuffled in, save the ones who were there for Substance Abuse. They were on a different program than the ones who were screwed in the head.

            They sat in a circle on comfy chairs in an orange room with motivational quotes all along the walls. At the front of the circle were all of the instructors, looking at everyone with warm smiles and sad eyes. A man called Paul, the head of the program, spoke first,  
“Since we have someone new today, let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves. Harry, you’ll catch on.” Paul motioned to Zayn, who nodded and looked around the room,

“Uh, I’m Zayn. I’m from Concord, Massachusetts. I’m here for depression, anxiety, self-harm, suicide attempt, and anorexia. What I hope to gain from this program is coping skills, I guess” He finished, looking to Niall.

“Thanks, Zayn,” Niall said warmly, “I’m Niall. I’m from Brookline, Massachusetts. I’m here for depression, anxiety, self harm, suicidal tendencies and suicidal attempts. What I hope to gain from this program is coping skills too” Niall finished, looking to Liam.

“Thanks, Niall. I’m Liam. I’m from New Hampshire. I’m here for depression, anxiety, body image, suicide attempts, hearing things, and seeing things. What I hope to gain from this program is coping skills, like the others.” Liam said, nudging the person next to him.  
“I’m Stan. I’m from Wellesley, Massachusetts. I’m here for depression and anxiety. What I hope to gain from this program is coping skills” Stan finished. The rest of the group went around, sharing their stories. There Olly from Acton who was here for depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide attempts, and OCD. Then there was Iggy who was here for depression, anxiety, PTSD, suicide attempts and bipolar. Finally it was Harry’s turn.

“Alright. I’m Harry. I’m from Newton, Massachusetts. I’m here for depression, anxiety, self-harm, suicide attempts, and suicidal tendencies. I guess what I hope to gain from this program is coping skills?” He finished, looking to Louis who was seated next to him.

“Good job, Harry. I’m Louis. I’m from Reading, Massachusetts. I’m here for depression, anxiety, PTSD, and bulimia. What I hope to gain from this program is happiness”

 _Louis wanted to be happy. Louis should be happy. Louis will be happy,_ Harry thought _, if he can do it so can I._

~

Eddy left the next day. He’d already been there three weeks and his insurance had run out. Wouldn’t cover his issues anymore. When they were leaving for the day, Eddy saluted him and told him to _be good, do good things, Harry. And be happy, you deserve it._

 

Louis moved in that night. The banter came easy between them, they chatted like friends and gossiped like old ladies. When it came time for lights out, they went to their respective beds but turned to face each other.

“Never have I ever?” Louis offered, Harry nodded in the darkness.

“Alright I’ll start,” Louis said, “Never have I ever had curls.”

“Seriously Louis?” Harry asked, hoping he didn’t sound too put off.

“Seriously. You go”

“Never have I ever been in love”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well lucky you, Harry. Love hurts more than dying”

~

The next week flew by. Some things remained the same: the therapy sessions, the plastic silverware, the urge to cut or scrape or mark or feel. The urge to cut when suddenly you’re feeling too much too soon and you can’t handle it and is this how sanity feels? The never-have-I-evers and the butterflies in his chest whenever Louis was within an inch of him and how _pretty_ he was and how Harry was falling in love. Harry was falling in love, right there in the mental hospital, with a boy who cuts and starves and panics and wanted to die but Harry couldn’t love him any more because he was perfect. He was beautiful and strong and vivacious and wonderful and he made Harry feel so safe and warm and Harry wanted to make him feel safe and warm and loved and _worth it_ because he was. **[Is, still is].** You’d think that a bit over a week is too soon to fall in love, but when you’re spilling your guts and unwinding the tunnels and lighting candles in the darkness you learn to care about the other person for everything they are and everything they’ve been through and you can see it, you can see through the demons and the monsters and the scars, you can see who they’ll become. And Harry wanted to be part of Louis’ “after” because Louis had one.

Some things, though, did change: Liam was sent to East House 3, the one with the supposed padded walls and the one where straight jackets were apparently okay. Liam had to leave because he was seeing things and hearing things and those things were telling him to die. So Liam had to be taken away because he wasn’t Liam anymore and everyone was sad. Niall cried for three days.

So Niall cried and Liam left and Zayn pouted and Louis was Louis and Harry was in love.

~

It happened a week later, four days before Harry was supposed to be discharged and five days before Louis.

It happened in the darkness of the night, with the dog howling in the background and the sound of the night staff whispering in the halls.

It happened during a game of “never-have-I-ever” and Harry didn’t expect it.

“Your turn, Harry”

“Never Have I Ever worn polka dots.”

“That’s ridiculous, how could you have never worn polka dots?! They’re classic!”

“Not everyone can pull them off like you can, Lou”

Silence.

Harry gulped.

He’d been trying to keep his affections towards Louis toned down, at least while the boy was right in front of him. He tried to shush his heart and close his heart eyes and down some dragonflies to kill the butterflies. It didn’t work.

“My turn, then?”

Harry nodded, even though Louis couldn’t see him.

“Never Have I Ever…Oh fuck it”

Harry heard Louis get up from his bed and cross the room and plop down on the edge of his bed and Harry’s face flushed with anticipation.

“You’re leaving in four days, Harry. You’ve been here a bit over two weeks and you’re leaving in four days. That’s unbelievable.”

“Thanks, Lou.” Harry muttered, surprised that his vocal cords were still working.

“When I met you, your eyes had no light. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and yours were blank. You were soulless, Harry. You walked around in a haze of despair and I felt terrible because I wanted to save you. So I spent hours with you, just talking. I spent hours staring at you trying to make you laugh while Colin was _attempting_ to help us. And through it all I fell for you and suddenly the light was back in your eyes and that’s all I wanted, Harry, was to bring the light back. And I never expected to fall for you and I’m sorry but you’re leaving in four days and I had to tell you before it was too late and _please_ tell me I’m not alone in this.” Louis babbled, hands rolled into fists pushing down on his legs and fringe slung over his eyes and Louis _loved_ him and this was it.

This was the moment. This was the moment when you saw the light, when you felt the weight lift from your chest and you could _breathe_ again. This was the moment that Harry needed, the moment that made you realize that you _finally_ had something to live for and it was right in front of you. It was then that Harry realized that his attempts to die had never been successful, because he needed Louis to save him. And he did.

“Lou” Harry muttered. Louis turned, sitting to face Harry. He smiled, scooting over to cup Louis’ cheek and _finally_ bring their lips together. There weren’t any fireworks, no applause from the audience or sappy music. But it was there, with two broken boys on a bed kissing and falling, that they found their reason to be.

 

 

 


End file.
